


We Have Seen Better Days

by SylphOfPaperPlanes



Series: Pietro Pietro & Company [4]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Family Issues, I Guess Breaking the Law is Hereditary, Pietro is Still a Thief, Reunions, also:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylphOfPaperPlanes/pseuds/SylphOfPaperPlanes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro is finally starting to settle in at school when a familiar face appears on the news.<br/>And nothing good could come of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have Seen Better Days

The warm light of the storefront before Pietro was a sharp contrast to the the crowd trying to rush here and there with heads down and feet loud. Even the dreary gray skies hanging over the tall buildings seemed to seemed suffocatingly weighted with the will to be somewhere else. The normal city hum was only broken by the crowd of kids being led across the street by Hank and quickly followed by a familiar professor in a wheelchair.

Pietro couldn’t say that he hated New York City, with the thousands of stores and the life that seemed to be rushing everywhere, but he didn’t exactly think that his views of the city were shared by his teachers. A trip to the Natural History Museum? There was an entire to world to explore in Manhattan and they chose the past.

He glanced back at the storefront before tapping Alex on the shoulder, where the other had been keeping a watch on the group. “Cover for me, okay?”

“Why?” His eyebrow quirked in slight confusion until he saw the handpainted sign for the bookstore that drew the teen’s attention. “No.”

“Come on, I’ll finish looking before you guys even get on the train.” Pietro complained before he tilted his head toward the group, where Charles had been stopped by a pair of tourists speaking rapidly in German. He was clearly hesitant to use his mutation in public, and the two were talking too rapidly for him to get a word in edgewise.

“Wasn’t going to the museum enough history for you today?” He gestured back to the store where tattered novels were displayed in neat rows. Meanwhile, the German couple had started yelling and the children were starting to notice the scene taking place.

“A class field trip isn’t my idea of fun.” A man from the crowd bumped into Pietro and muttered an apology, but the younger hardly seemed phased. He still scanned the window with a glint of wonder in his eye.

“Why do you even want to go in there?” Alex asked, still keeping an eye on the professor, who was now yelling back at the couple.

“I just want to look around... They have some nice first editions.” Petro had taken notice of the fight, which little Doug Ramsey had tried to intervene, only to get yelled at by both parties.

“And so you’re just going to steal them.”

“I have money!”

“And where did you happen get that?”

“We’re getting off topic.” The teen rested a hand on the shoulder of the other and looked him in the eye. “Cover for me for thirty minutes.”

Alex shook his head and laughed slightly. “You have ten.” He shrugged off the teen’s hand before running to mediate the growing fight.

Pietro left the dreary crowd for the warm bookstore with a wide smile.

* * *

 

Something many people forget to mention about New York City was that it was the worst place to park, or even drive through for a normal car. For a school bus? Forget it.

So this prompted Charles to announce that the class trip into the city would be taken by train. He claimed it would be a good practice for the students to try their hand at integrating into society.

For Lorna, it was the easiest. For Pietro, it was the hardest.

Granted there was the kid with an unnatural skin color, but he seemed fine wearing an oversized sweatshirt with a hood that obscured the entirety of his face. Pietro on the other hand, had to sit still for the entire hour and a half ride, or the ages it felt like for him.

And that was practically a fate worse than death.

As the train painstakingly made it’s way up towards Westchester, most of the class had settled into the seats and made themselves at home. Across from Pietro, Scott had fallen asleep with his head leaning on Jean’s shoulder. At every bump or jostle, she would be there to knowingly push up his glasses and keep them firmly where it was safe. Even Hank and Alex had settled into their usual routine of bickering about the difference between “integrating” and “hiding” while conveniently keeping what was being hidden out of the conversation.

At the twenty minute mark, he had finished the book he had gotten in the city, and at thirty minutes, he had started to fidget horribly. His fingers twitched and knees bounced with the rocking of the train, too similar to a plane for comfort. Lorna had tried to comfort him some, but she was already tired from the day behind her to do much.

At the forty minute mark, a man down the aisle had gotten off the train, leaving behind a newspaper. Pietro didn’t hesitate to grab it and go back to his seat in a fraction of a second, flipping through page after page after page. It was from last week, but reading material was reading material nonetheless. He skimmed an article on some new art installation, and another on the current state of the stock market with far too many figures for him to keep track of before a headline caught his eye. _Radical Mutant Action Growing._

He read it. Once, twice, four, then fifteen times. A cell of mutant activists had been seen in various parts of New England, and the paper had the blurry black and white photos to prove it. They could barely be considered humanoid forms, little more than more than shadows breaking into private facilities across the area. Judging from the tone of the article, the team was good. Efficient, unstoppable. They got what they wanted, though that they wanted was never mentioned.

He knew it was ridiculous to hope for Wanda to be involved in it. He’d always acted the same way at every mention of “mutant terrorists”, but the idea that she could be so close was enough to justify optimism. He’d taken anything he could get as a sign from her to go find her, even though he had known every last one was a dead end.

In the same vein, Pietro prayed that none of them were Wanda. If that was the case, then he knew fully well that they would be caught in a matter of weeks. Once the news got a hold of a group of mutants, it was more than likely that the law would be right behind them. He knew she was more than capable, but he had no idea what to expect after the Sentinel incident.

Lorna was resting her head against the window, watching the raindrops begin to fall from the stormclouds while completely oblivious to her brother’s plight. Her mess of red hair couldn’t have been more different than the dreary blues and greys of the world passing by, and for a moment, he hated that she had to be a part of all of this. Two siblings with mutations, one of which ran away to break the law and the other who stayed home to do the same.

And then he had to drag her all the way to New York for safety of mind. A part of him wished that she’d stay normal, whatever the fuck that meant nowadays. At least then he’d know she’d stay safe. No one would mess with her, harass her for looking or acting differently, and she’d sure as hell go on to have a life free of protests and mobs.

Pietro folded the paper and returned it to it’s original spot.

He couldn’t do much to protect both of his sisters.

* * *

 

By the time the class had returned to the school, almost every student was exhausted. Class trips ended up doing this to the group, and more often than not it left them out of commision for the rest of the afternoon.

It also exhausted the professor, maybe even more than it did the children. Even with two people to help, controlling a group in the city was a challenge. He was currently struggling to stay awake in his study as the students who did not succumb to sleep were watching television in the next room over.

Not to forget Hank, who stood before him with a paper bag in hand.

Charles managed to run a tired hand over his eyes before he trained his eyes on the bag. “What’d he steal this time?”

“Three police walkie-talkies, two broadway tickets, an heirloom scrimshaw necklace, forty bucks, and a first edition print of _A Raisin in the Sun_.” The other spilled the contents of the bag onto the table, crumpling the paper in his hand as he spoke.

He sighed, not removing his eyes from the seemingly random items on his desk. Pietro had been more than a handful on the outings, and it wasn’t the first time he had come home with a plethora of stolen goods. The kleptomaniac had claimed it was a force of habit, but Charles had also chalked it up to a disregard to authority. He supposed a lifetime without a need for it could do that to a child.

“Put the book in the library, the cash and necklace in the safe, toss the walkie-talkies, and dear god, Hank, stop looking at me like that. You know as well as I that returning everything he takes will raise too many questions.”

“And the tickets?”

He pulled the papers closer, inspecting the awfully small print. “Go to the show. It’s next Saturday and you and Alex could use a day off.”

Hank took the tickets when they were handed to him, reading the information for himself. “Are you sure? Because the students-”

“Somehow I think I’ll be able to deal with a few kids. I’ve dealt with them before you started teaching, and I’ll continue even while you’re gone.” Charles nodded before wheeling out from behind his desk and passing the teacher. Hank reached out to take control of the chair, and he merely moved out of the way. “I can move around on my own, thank you very much.”

As though to prove his point, he wheeled out of the room and down the hallway, talking over his shoulder while he did. “But honestly, take a day for yourself. Do you expect me to keep depending on everyone so readily?”

“Of course not. ” Hank said quickly as he followed the professor while he headed towards the room of students.

“Good, then I suggest you inform Alex sooner than later. It’s best that he doesn’t go and-”

He was cut off by the thoughts of the students, all of whom had eyes trained on the television. One mind in particular buzzed with anger and focus akin to fireworks in a blender, but any further focus on that was snapped by the news reporters continued speech.

_“...The radical mutant group located in New England had been spotted again in Vermont. Prior to today, they had been seen at multiple pro-mutant rallies as well as having broken into several secure facilities.”_ The screen cut from the reporter to barely distinguishable figures from security camera footage with text on the screen claiming it from a storage facility in New Hampshire. Charles managed to make out three figures in the black and white before the camera was seen by one of them. They made some quick hand gesture and the footage dropped to static.

The picture switched to a shakier camera, this one in color, of a mutant rally. He was about to demand the students turn off the news when the focus of the video walked into view. A man in a long, tan coat followed a girl in a familiar red jacket. While the man merely kept his head down and hid most of his face behind long coppery hair, the other had pulled a scarf over the lower half of her face and goggles settled over her eyes. The two stopped to talk, assuming they were out of view of others. She pulled the goggles off her eyes and back onto her mess of dark hair and let the scarf slip from her face in the same motion in a practiced grace. Her face was familiar somehow, though he couldn’t place from where he had seen her. _“The team, led by the self-proclaimed ‘White Devil’ and ‘Scarlet Witch’ have broken into a confirmed sixteen locations and have stolen materials of an unclassified nature...”_

And then Charles knew where he had seen the girl’s face. He looked toward the student who seemed as though someone had thrown a match into the gunpowder mess of his mind to find Pietro sitting unnaturally still. He seemed several steps past shocked, past fearful, past confused. The television continued to drone on before someone moved to turn it off, and the silence that was chilling to everyone else was gone to the professor. Minds exploded in tired wonder and fear of the silver-haired teen and how tightly he clutched the fabric of the couch under white knuckles.

His lips parted slightly, as though it had taken far too much effort in comparison to the rest of his paralyzed figure. He shakily attempted to raise a hand to his mouth without even startling Lorna, who had stayed fast asleep next to him.

“That’s my sister.” He said it once, twice, three times as though he needed to convince himself of it.

No one in the room seemed to notice when thunder rang through the world outside.

* * *

 

Pietro scuffed his toes nervously on the clean tiles of the basement. He had followed the professor and Hank down to the labs wordlessly, taking their silence as permission to be down here. What his silence was, on the other hand, was something completely different.

He couldn’t stop replaying the footage he had seen in his head. Wanda, Scarlet Witch, whatever she wanted to go by now, was here and was alive. He wished there had been more, anything for him to see how much she had changed and how much of the bright glint in her eyes was still there. And the idea that he might see her? It was exciting to say the least. Horrifying to say the worst.

Something ached at the back of his mind, a memory of a girl with nothing to lose but her life while setting off into the rain. It was an inkling of a thought, that she would be in trouble sooner or later if her face was on television, but it was burned out by the unexpected joy and the clouds of shock that still struck through his mind like lightning.

_She was alive._

The professor seemed to be having a mental conversation with Hank, which left him with his own speeding thoughts. He hadn't been down in the labs before then, and the quiet, constant buzz of of the lights was almost comforting when paired to the muffled echoes of thunder. He took his time in dragging a fingernail between the blue tiles on the walls in an attempt not to dart off and explore the various hallways of the floor.

It took a long moment, but Charles eventually turned to face a heavy steel door, letting a beam scan his face before a complex lock became undone. The second the doors were open wide enough for him to slip through, Pietro was in the room, on the platform suspended in the middle of the vast space.

“Is this that brain computer you guys constantly talk about? Is it going to help me find my sister?”

Charles wheeled his way to the control panel with only slight hesitation. “Yes, it is Cerebro, if that’s what you’re referring to. Now that we have a general location to find her and a situation that she may be in danger, I think that it’s a fair time to at least keep an eye on her.”

Pietro darted to the professor’s side, trying to keep away from the edge of the platform. The words resonated with the part of his mind he tried to ignore since she had left. “Do you really think she’s in danger? I know her. She can fend for herself.”

“After the Sentinel incident, I wouldn’t want to take any chances.” The other said while checking dials and resting a wire-connected helmet in his lap. “I had assumed you’d be a little more worried for her given your terms of goodbye.”

“I just want to see her again.” He was shocked by the weight of his own words as they left his mouth. “I want to get to point A before we can even start thinking about B, you know? I’ve been waiting for some type of point A for over a year.”

“Pietro, I can’t guarantee that we’ll be able to make contact. Most people aren’t used to telepaths poking into their minds.”

“This is the girl who shoots hexes from her fingertips and has a brother who runs at the speed of sound. She adapts to strange things pretty quickly.”

“We’re just going to find her location, and that’s final. I hate to remind you, but the news had branded her as a radical. We don’t know the state of mind she’s in right now.” He hesitated with the helmet, inspecting the wires and the measurements on the console. Pietro couldn’t place it, but he thought the other had looked somewhat bitter.

He felt his hand wrap into a fist and heels dig into the metal below. Why was he the only one taking this seriously enough? Wanda had been missing for over a fucking year. Even if she didn’t want to come back, he at least wanted a single word with her. “I just. Want. To find her. Do you know what it’s like to lose your sister to a goddamn radical movement and worry about her life day by day?”

When the words were out and echoed around the room, a dead silence fell over it. Even the storm outside was gone and replaced by air suffocating with tension. Even Hank, who was messing with a panel by the door, halted his movements. It was as though the entire school, the entire world cut their sentences short and stared down into the underground bunker.

The seconds that ticked by seemed to etch themselves onto the professor’s face, slowly drawing in emotion that was previously neatly tucked away. “Yes, I do.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and tears threatened to spill over. “And mind you, it’s the only reason I’m still helping you with this. I’ll help you find your twin, but just be aware that I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. I know more than anyone what it’s like to have a sibling go, and my god, she was gone. Your sister could very well have viewpoints that won’t be changing anytime soon. She may not even want to make contact with you. Agreed?”

Pietro closed his eyes for a single moment, dragging a hand back through his hair. For once, he really was at a loss for words.

“Agreed.”

* * *

 

Charles pulled the helmet from his head, sweat lining his brow and the room’s power slowly whirring to a stop.

“The Deer Hill Motel in Windsor, Vermont.” he managed to get out between heavy breaths.

Pietro was at his side in a flash, eyes immediately darting around the room, the professor's face, and anywhere he thought he could find some answers. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, yes, she is with two other mutants, presumably two other members of the group she’s in.” He began to wheel away from the machine and back out into the labs, quickly followed by the teen.

The kleptomaniac started talking the second the doors closed behind them. “Did she seem... Y’know, stable?”

A shrug of the shoulders.“Generally. Angry, but sane. I didn’t think it was wise to touch her mind. I don’t exactly have the best record of getting into your family’s heads.”

“Sounds just like Wanda. So are we going to Vermont?” His words were intended to be casual, but the way he rushed them out said otherwise.

“No plans. It would be better to watch the news than approach the group.”

The two paused at the elevator, and Pietro nodded while he took in the information. “Okay, prof. I’m gonna go and take the stairs if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Also, Pietro, I wanted to tell you that what you’re going through is completely understandable. As your teacher, I should let you know what you should know that I’m here if you ever may need to talk about it.”

“Thanks.” He said as a wide grin broke out on his face. And with that, he darted down a side hallway and up into the mansion.

A few seconds later, Hank appeared from one of the labs off of the main corridor. “You realize he probably went to go find his sister, right?”

“Oh, I know.”

“Should we go after him?”

“He needs this right now. He might not find what he wants, but he needs it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not everyone can get closure on these things. I’ll let him take his chances.”

* * *

 

Pietro pulled his goggles down off his eyes. The trip to Vermont took somewhere around five minutes. At that was only because he had gotten lost once or twice.

Now he stood outside the motel with the rain left in New York, but clouds still hanging here, and the faintest hum of energy in the humid air.

He ran into the lobby that clearly showed its age, checked the papers behind the desk, and was up the flight of stairs before the receptionist ever noticed anyone was ever there. A room booked under the name “Scarlett W.” was on the second floor, and he knew it wouldn’t be anyone else. She wasn’t exactly subtle, but she sure had a sense of humor.

Standing in front of the door, he took a deep breath. Was he really ready for this?

The answer was no.

But he still knocked.

A voice of a man eventually came through, somewhat muffled but still audible. “Who’s dere?”

This again, made Pietro pause. Whoever that was, was _certainly_ not Wanda. Even down to the accent, the deeper voice was nothing like hers. For a split second, he debated going back down to the receptionist’s desk and checking the papers again, but had already hesitated enough that any other time lost would be noticeable. (Even by their standards.)

“Housekeeping.” He called with a roll of his eyes. It wouldn’t fool anyone but hopefully Wanda would-

The door was pulled open a small amount, and a familiar mess of dark hair came into view through the space. Brown eyes narrowed and then widened in recognition, and Wanda threw the door open all the way. He briefly noted that she was wearing the same outfit as what was shown in the news. “Peter?”

“The one and only Quicksilver, at your service.” He grinned, a genuine smile of relief. “Now I have a few questions that I think I deserve answers on.” He made his way into the room, a brief sprint into a space cramped with the necessary furniture. A bed, a night table, a chair, a desk, and another person, apparently.

In the time before anyone would react to him coming in, he inspected the man, presumably the one who had answered the door earlier. He was laying back on the bed, seeming at home even in the dump of a hotel room. With the splay of copper hair around his head and the trench coat draped around his shoulders, Pietro guessed that he was the man from the news with Wanda, “The White Devil”. He looked younger than he did on the news, about the twins’ age, and the seriousness was gone from his features. Something he hadn’t seen on the news, though, was that the whites of his eyes were dark as tar, a sharp contrast to his pale skin and red irises.

“First question, who the hell is that?” The rest of the world slowly caught up to him, and by that time he had sat down on the chair in the corner. Wanda seemed used to this sort of thing, even after a year without it. As for the other, he immediately sat up and glared at the silver-haired teen.

With a quick glance to Wanda, the man stared at him. “Who de hell are you?”

“Wanda’s twin. She never mentioned me?” He sent a halfhearted glare in his sister’s direction, and she only shrugged before closing the door and leaning against it.

“None o’ us really like to talk ‘bout our home lives.” Seeing her relax must have been some sort of sign, and the man leaned back as well. It was obvious the two were used to each other’s body language and trusted it.

“Yeah, and I don’t exactly like someone named White Devil talking to my sister.”

“Le Diable Blanc.” He corrected almost instinctively. “I say it in french, and everyone goes an’ translates it. It’s an old nickname, but people also call me Gambit or Remy.”

“Remy isn’t the point right now. What the hell are you doing here? Don’t get me wrong, I missed you, but I told you to stay home.” Wanda seemed to find her voice, and she made her way back into the center of the room, snatching up a map that had fallen on the floor.

“I saw you guys on the news.” He rushed to take the map from her and sat back down, scanning the red marker that pinpointed spots with red Xs. “And I had help finding you. As for home... Lorna and I are staying at that Xavier’s School place that Mom used to talk about. Staying home wasn’t an option.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She hissed at him. “The entire county is on mutant watch.”

“And is it because a mutant radical group had been breaking into secure facilities?” He tossed the map onto the desk where other papers were already accumulated in yellow envelopes and messy piles. Gambit seemed to relax even more, pulling a deck of cards from his coat pocket and setting up a game of solitaire.

“Maybe. But it doesn’t matter, because we were planning to move out tomorrow.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Away from here.”

“So you don’t know.” Pietro managed to smile again, maybe because he was right, or maybe because his sister would finally listen to him. “I told you keeping a low profile was the safest route.”

“Funny thing for you to say, breaking into the Pentagon.” Wanda moved over to the desk digging through the papers for something.

His smile shattered into shock. “How do you know that?”

She found what she was looking for, and threw a heavy stack of documents onto his lap. “We’ve been breaking into government facilities. You’re lucky we got to the footage before anyone else did, or you’d be just as infamous as us.”

He skimmed the papers, pages flying under his fingertips. It had two frames of security camera footage, likely the only two with him in it, alongside transcribed firsthand accounts of the event.

Remy continued at his game, but looked up at the two of them. “You’re a family o’ crooks an’ thieves. Seems just like my group back home in N’awlins.”

“Great, your boyfriend already sees me as family.” Pietro leveled a glare in his sister’s direction before going back to the papers about him.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s way too similar to you.”

“Come on, Cher, I thought we had something.” He jokingly cooed while shuffling the cards back into a deck. She only rolled her eyes before going back to the pile of stolen papers, this time organizing them into the envelopes.

“Wanna explain why he’s laying in your bed?” Pietro asked.

“Where else is he going to be? We spend all day planning, and no offense Rem, but you’re not the one to bother keeping to his own space.”

“Not like there’s much space to keep.” He threw back while pocketing the cards.

“I will be the first to admit,” Wanda started, directing this line to no one in particular, “We have seen better days.” Pietro held back the impulse to tie in a reference to Shakespeare, and nearly would have, had three quiet knocks not resonated through the room. Pietro immediately looked to the doorway. Instead of anyone getting up to answer it, a small girl walked through the door.

Literally walked through.

Without even opening it.

No one seemed phased by this, and the little girl didn’t seem surprised at Pietro’s presence either. “I’m buying pizza. Am I getting for him too?”

Before he could formulate an answer, his sister cut in. “No thanks, Kit. And be quick too, will you? We’re packing up now.” The girl, groaned and stormed out the room the way she came, but not before picking up a folded wad of cash from the night table.

Pietro could only come up with the same question that was thrown around before. “Who the hell is she?”

“Kitty. She’s a girl that we saved from Illinois. They started holding facilities for ‘dangerous powers’, apparently, and she was one of the lucky ones that we helped escape. Couldn’t find her parents, it was a whole fiasco, and she stuck with us.” Wanda said it as though it was simple, and none of their lives had been in danger in the process, when it was obviously the opposite of the fact.

“Are you going to keep her stuck in a life like this?”

“We don’ have a choice, and neither did she.” Gambit chimed in as he put his cards away and stood. He managed to miss the glare that Pietro gave Wanda, though. She had a choice, and obviously never mentioned it.

“You can take her to the Xavier’s Institute. The professor would accept her, I bet.” He nodded enthusiastically at his own comment, placing the papers atop one of Wanda’s neat piles. “I’m sure he’d accept all three of you guys, actually.”

“What happened to me making a difference in this world?” Wanda began putting papers in a messenger bag that Pietro recognized as the one he packed for her ages ago.

“You can’t do that with a target on your head like there is now. Come on, even if it’s just to lay low.” he stood, taking the now-full bag and slinging it over a shoulder. “I’ll carry you and everything.”

Wanda looked around the room, not seeming to have any other personal possessions left. “You can’t carry all three of us.”

“I’ll take Kitty an’ the bike. Haven’t gotten a chance to take the motorcycle fo’ a spin since we were in Maine.” Remy seemed excited, whether it was for the bike trip or for a safe space, Pietro wasn’t really sure.

Wanda on the other hand, was more hesitant. “...Fine.” She said after a long moment. “But you have to know that this isn’t permanent. We need a place to stay, and we needed it fast.”

“I’m good with fast.” Pietro sighed with impatience, taking one last sweeping glance around a space that his sister had spent so much time in. Her room back home used to be plastered with pictures and bright shades of red, and the white-walled, dingy motel seemed to be nothing like the former. It seemed too empty, too impersonal to be any type of home for Wanda, but she’d apparently dealt with it.

Gambit looked quickly out the window and began walking to the door calling out over his shoulder as he did. “Better go get Kitty outta here ‘fore it starts to rain. Should be there by tomorrow morning if everything goes okay. Afternoon if it doesn’t.”

“Don’t you dare go leading cops to the school. We finally got a good place to stay, and I don’t want you being cocky to ruin it.” Wanda said, and he nodded on his way out the door.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, as though she was saying goodbye to this place that she had done a year ago. She pulled her red bomber jacket tighter around her shoulders, as well as brought the scarf closer to her face.“Are you going to have to carry me again? I always hated that when we were little.” While it was easier to just protect the back of their neck and run forwards over short distances, it was dangerous for a trip of almost ninety miles.

“Sorry to say it, sis, but yeah.” He promptly picked her up, noticing that she was scarily light. Closer, he could see that her face was thinner and paler, and while she was smiling, it didn’t reach her eyes as much as it used to.

“Jeez, give me some warning next time.” She playfully punched his arm, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Would you rather that, or me just leave you here?”

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“And that’s how I know we’re related.”

And with that, they set off.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this was one hell of a work. If you haven't read A Raisin in the Sun, it's a pretty good play, and maybe not Pietro's style, but still interesting reading material. But what did you guys think? Any thoughts on the new characters introduced? Comments, Suggestions, Questions? Ask here or via [my tumblr](http://algebrasunshine.tumblr.com/ask/). (Also: Bonus points to those who can guess which Shakespearian play the title is from!)


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